Fic Amnesty: Winning
by Mostly Harmless III
Summary: More than anything, Cloud wanted praise. Zack/Sephiroth  implied . Cloud/Sephiroth  one-sided . Violence, slash themes, adult situations, angsty, not beta-read. This is a very old fic, but I'm uploading it once again for giggles.


Title: Winning  
>Author: Ren Makoto (Mostly Harmless III)<br>Pairing: Zack/Sephiroth (implied)…Urk?  
>Summary: More than anything, he wanted praise.<br>Rating: PG  
>Warnings: Violence, adult themes.<br>Author's Notes: This was written long before Square started cranking out prequels and sequels for FF7. Keep your newfangled continuity out of my RPG. This is part of my fic amnesty where I am uploading old, unfinished, and bad fics that were pulled because, frankly, they were bad. Enjoy!

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><p>Winning<p>

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><p>More than anything, he wanted praise. His arms were shaking from holding the sword so long, raising it up to kill monsters, abominations. Any combination of swipes, stabs, high arcs and parries he had used, gritting his teeth when his blade met first skin then muscle and finally bone. The crunch as they were all sliced messily into parts, squirming pieces on the ground. Sweat and blood ran together to drip down his torn shirtfront and his eyes gave the eerie glow of Mako even after they were all dead and gone. Perhaps he might collapse, perhaps his heart might never slow again. But it didn't matter. He hadn't needed the Commander. He had won on his own.<p>

Cloud smiled.

He turned, eyebrows raised, mouth parting, lips curving upwards, and he faced the man, hoping. Any sign of approval, any glimmer in those eyes that said "well done"... The smile fell away.

"Look out!"

Too late. The Commander turned, a swirl of black leather and silver hair, unreal in his grace. How many times had he seen his Commander's defense, his ease in battle? But this time...

A slash downward from jagged talons accompanied by a grunt of pain and a slow swing upwards from Masamune, its slender steel catching the dim light briefly. It was the speed that confused Cloud, made his smooth brow furrow. He had never seen that sword-THE -sword-handled so slowly, so sloppily. Pain made the man clumsy, caught him off guard. But the slash made purchase despite its stilted start. And then the noises, the familiar sounds Cloud was beginning to memorize: flesh ripping, blood pouring fourth, some sacrifice to war gods and death.

The beast wailed and stumbled back, just long enough for Cloud's Commander, his leader, to cure himself and stand ready, just as fearsome as the dragon. Perhaps more so. After all, he needed no talons, no claws or anger-filled amber eyes to terrify. Sephiroth needed nothing. His name was enough.

Cloud labored towards him, still tired from his earlier fight, the one he had been so proud of. Foolish.

Zack was already there, less battered than Cloud, but that was to be expected. The Soldier was already striking, silently darting towards the dragon and only the sound of his heavy blade scraping along the ground and then splitting the air met Cloud's ears.

Sephiroth beside him was tall, seemingly invincible. His lips whispering a spell and his arm raising to deliver it gracefully. There was a flash, a socket-burning light and the crackle of multiple bolts striking right to the enemy's core. The spell must have weakened it, direct hit as it was, but mostly, it seemed to make the beast angry. Roaring in pain, the dragon lashed out, flailing tail and arms as the spell popped joints, tore flesh and seared his insides.

Amidst the screams and growls, he saw it. There. An opening. Cloud ran in an arch around the dragon's left flank to take his chance, sword clutched in his hands, the source of his confidence. To his right, he saw Zack moving in a similar pattern, running a wide half circle towards the dragon's exposed side. Sweat poured down from Cloud's helmet into his eyes, his uniform uncomfortable, heavy. He barely felt like he was moving at all, as if some invisible hand was pushing against him. The smell of sulfur and blood nauseated him while the sweat made his grip slippery. Was he close enough to do any damage, or had he lost his chance?

Looking up, he saw the unmistakable flash of a spell and watched the startling pull of the dragon's neck backwards, his jaws wrenching open in a roar and his arms flinging violently outwards...

It was too late to stop, too much to force his body to duck, to dodge. But he tried. His legs buckled and then Cloud was falling backwards, his feet lifting off the ground, his body angling towards the earth. To his right, he saw Zack, his knees raised in a gravity-defying leap backwards; the Soldier's athletic attempt to avoid the dragon's wildly swinging arm.

The scene tilted as Cloud's body moved closer to parallel with the ground. It looked bleak for Zack, his leap having brought him just short of "safe." And though he was truly worried for Zack, Cloud had more pressing, personal concerns. To have done so well just moments ago-to have defended himself and felled a foe on his own.-only now to find himself about to be crushed by a massive talon, pinned to the ground by sharpened claws. Not for the first time, Cloud wanted only one thing: to see the swirl of black, the flash of Masamune. Commander, his mind whispered, save me...

The ground rushed up to meet him and the world jiggled in his vision, the noises of the battle dulled by the sound of his head hitting. He blinked, bringing the battle into focus and almost wished he hadn't. He could do nothing but watch as the bony, gnarled hand of the dragon came down towards him...

He almost gasped when black leather darted before his eyes, when Sephiroth's lean body leapt, weightless, towards the dragon, one leg raised, sword held high as if in a dance. Deadly. There was a high- pitched, metallic ring, a final growl, a whimper and then the earth shaking thud as the dragon toppled, defeated.

His Commander had come through. Sephiroth had saved him. Cloud felt a surge inside him that only one who has barely escaped death knows.

He opened his eyes, half expecting to see his savior leaning over him, his lips working the spell again. Only the nighttime sky and the mountains around him greeted his bleary eyes. A turn of his head to the side, the bones cracking back into place, and he was looking at what he wanted to see: his Commander worried, concerned, hands moving over gashes and cuts. But not for him...

From a distance, he watched as Zack's body glowed momentarily, healed from within by Sephiroth's spell. The dark haired Soldier sat up, shaking his head and wincing. Then Zack's head was lifted upwards by a gloved hand and Sephiroth studied him, tilting his chin left to right, checking his eyes for tell-tale signs of damage. Perhaps Zack blushed under the scrutiny from his Commander, the concern; Cloud couldn't tell from where he lay, unnoticed, shaking in fear.

Then the Commander was standing, holding a hand downwards. Zack took it, a firm grasp between two warriors, survivors. And to Cloud it seemed that once they were both righted, that their hands stayed locked together too long. Their eyes lingering...

As an afterthought, they turned their attention towards him. If his Commander planned on offering the same service, the same helping hand, Cloud wouldn't give him the opportunity. Though now he doubted that the thought had ever crossed the man's mind. But he was quickly standing, dusting off, eyes trained on his uniform to hide the threatening tears.

"Let's go."

"Yes, Commander," Zack and Cloud replied in unison. With a wave over his shoulder, Sephiroth cast the spell again, this time on Cloud. Sephiroth didn't even turn his eyes to watch it work. Insult to injury. Cloud gritted his teeth together, bowing his blonde head as the cuts and gashes were forced to heal. It was for his own good, but it sure hurt like hell. When he looked up, his eyes glowed with an unearthly green before settling into his normal, Mako blue.

Both restored, the pair fell in behind Sephiroth, Zack walking with a spring in his step that Cloud found he disliked considerably. It was as if the dragon had never attacked, as if he hadn't almost been smashed and ran through by its claws.

"Hey, saw you beat that," Zack began, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards Cloud's kill, "by yourself."

Cloud nodded, pulling his helmet down further.

"Why so glum? You won!" Zack joked, clapping him on the shoulder. Cloud tried to reply, tried to think of something clever, but nothing came to mind.

"Oh, I see. 'Winning isn't everything,' right?" He tossed this last bit over his shoulder, laughing as he sped his pace to walk beside Sephiroth. His tone was sarcastic but not cruel. Cloud imagined that he heard an edge to it anyway.

Watching Zack and Sephiroth walk shoulder to shoulder, like old friends-maybe more-Cloud was jealous. He knew it was petty, that it was silly. But it settled into his gut, more painful than the wounds his Commander had healed and more unnerving than the wobbling of his knees. Ahead of him, Zack laughed and slapped Sephiroth on the back, something most men would never even think of doing, more or less live through. And though Sephiroth didn't laugh with him, he looked down at his young companion...and smiled.

Cloud winced, turned his eyes away from the sight and almost stumbled.

No Zack, Cloud thought, bitterness dominating his thoughts, winning IS everything. And though he had survived the dragon attack, had been "saved" by the world's greatest soldier, he knew the truth. Sephiroth hadn't saved _him_.

Sephiroth had saved _Zack_.

_But I'm alive_, he thought, _and we won_. That should have been enough. But somehow, Cloud knew he had lost. And losing had never hurt so much before.

End


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